Self-Destruct
by lilwanderer
Summary: *SPOILERS* Set after CoLS. Jace is on a mission to rid himself of the Heavenly Fire and will do so by any means, but its destroying the ones he loves. May add more chapters...R&R :)
1. Chapter 1

His room was dark, the only light coming in through the small slit in the curtains. Sat at the edge of the bed Clary rubbed her hand over her arm looking down behind her at Jace's sleeping form. The bed sheet was wrapped around his waist leaving the expanse of toned tanned skin exposed; thick black marks overlapping the silvery outlines of faded runes marred the otherwise perfect skin, his arms were folded beneath his head; the gold silken strands of his hair streaking across his bruised face. A deep fissure bisected his lower lip with a twin cut distorting the upper lip, shuddering at the rust coloured blood still freckling his chin Clary pushed herself up off the mattress, padding carefully to the en-suite bathroom she closed the door softly before switching the light on.

The harsh white light stung her eyes, tears glittering on her lashes as she became accustomed to the bright illumination. Looking at herself in the medicine cabinet mirror above the white porcelain sink Clary noticed her dull complexion with a mixture of irony and amusement; she spent hours locked in this small bathroom while Jace slept and it seemed the hours were catching up on her. Her normally vibrant hair lacked any semblance of lustre and instead hung in a sheet of dull rust coloured waves; her skin was pale making the smattering of auburn freckles look like rivets of blood leaking from her pores. Running the tap she waited for the water to turn ice cold before thrusting her cupped palms underneath the stream of water.

The chill of the water was numbing against her face, a small gasp escaped her lips before she could supress it. Stopping still she waited to see if the involuntary noise had elicited any change from the room adjacent; hearing nothing Clary hung her head shutting off the faucet and turned off the bathroom light. Groping blindly for the door handle she felt the cool metal under her fingertips pushing down lightly on the handle she pushed the door open a fraction pressing her slight frame through the crack. She stood with her back to the door for a few moments taking in the room before her; the normally pristine floor was covered in debris. Seraph blades scattered the floor, items of gear lay scattered everywhere a blood drenched towel had been thrown over the foot of the bed and their steles lay on the bedside table, discarded like crayons on a child's drawing table.

Memories of the previous hours filled Clary's head. Jace's prone body draped over the stone steps of the Institute his skin glowing internally from the Heavenly Fire still residual from his encounter with Glorious. Unable to touch him, for fear of being burnt, they had had to leave him on the wet stone whilst fat raindrops assaulted him, sizzling upon contact with his bare skin. The agonising minutes that dragged past as they waited for the Silent Brothers to arrive followed by the hours spent pacing outside the infirmary listening for the smallest sign of life from within. Silence soon gave way to agonised screams which succumbed to whimper begging until again lapsing into a drawn out silence. Clary had pounded the doors to the infirmary screaming and begging entry futilely claiming she could help, Alec had dragged her away twice both times she had evaded him to be denied entry again. Sobbing she had collapsed at the door her hands darkening to purple from the tremendous force with which she had pounded the wood.

Finally the door had opened to a train of parchment-robed clad Brothers; each had passed by silently without even an acknowledgement of her presence until a final figure had stopped in front of her. Her unseeing eyes registered the wash of parchment before them, her dulled nerves feeling the odd mixture of coolness and heat coming from the hand of the Brother that knelt before her as if the hand on her shoulder was made of stone that had been left in the sun. She turned her head to look up and into the face of the Brother that comforted her; in her mind she had known it would be Brother Zachariah but still her body responded with the familiar shock of seeing his largely unmarked face and quiffed back ruffle of ink black hair. _Do not torment yourself young Clarissa. I gave you my word that young master Herondale would not be hurt in my presence. _Dumbfounded Clary opened her mouth to speak but only a rush of air came out, in her head a torrent of abuse toward the empathic Brother raged; a thousand biting a derogatory comments waged to be released but in the end silence overcame each.

A noise broke through Clary's reminiscing, a gargled-choke like sound coming from the direction of the bed. Panicked Clary dashed toward Jace as he catapulted up into a sitting position his torso leaning precariously over the edge of the bed, his fists bunched into the sheet and mattress stretching the thin skin over the bone and turning its usual golden shade to a horrible milky yellow. Heaving dryly his eyes streamed with red-tinged tears as he continued to choke on something. Dragging the cool night air into his lungs slowly the choking dulled down to a chest wrenching cough before slowing into deep breaths. 'Clary?' panic laced his voice, unable to help herself Clary turned her head away from the sight before her; the glow of Heavenly Fire radiated frim his eyes and lit his veins 'Clary!' Jace's cries became more urgent until, unable to stop herself, Clary threw herself across the room and onto Jace.

The bare skin of his chest burned into hers, sweat and pain coursed off her but she didn't care she clung onto him tighter making his pain hers. 'No more Jace' she whispered repeatedly like a mantra into his ear. She could feel him shaking beneath her, the want to have her near but the need to keep her safe still raking his body making his arm muscles spasm as they worked to clutch her to him whilst simultaneously push her away. As the spasms began to subside and the heat radiating from his cooled Clary pulled away so that she could look into his eyes; they had faded back to their usual golden shade, reminiscent of butterscotch sauce, and were rimmed with a mixture of fatigue and blood. Shushing him as he began to sob she pressed her lips to his temple, 'please stop looking for trouble Jace. Please, I can't keep losing you' she whispered into his hair.

It took hours for Jace to settle and even wrapped around Clary, separated by a thin bed sheet, he couldn't sleep. Flipping onto his back he looked out at the approaching dawn, her begging words already lost on him as he formulated another way to rid himself of this Heavenly curse. _I'm doing this for us Clary, I promise_ he thought casting a sideways glance over her sleeping form. Slipping gracefully from beneath the sheet he collected his shirt and a pair of clean jeans from the wardrobe. Dressing he watched his girlfriend sleep; her hand rested on the pillow next to her head, her fingers twitching in and out of a fist whilst her eyes moved rapidly beneath their rice paper thin lids. She was so small even in sleep; he hadn't noticed the bruising shadows beneath her eyes or the bird-like bones of her hands jutting out from beneath the skin. She was rapidly losing weight and wasting away before him and he couldn't stop himself as he snuck from the room and out onto the already bustling New York streets.

'Jace!' Clary's eyes flew open the residue of her nightmare still fresh on her lashes, momentarily disorientated her gaze flew around the room. Empty again. Sitting back against the cold stone wall she wrapped her arms around her knees making herself as small as she could. Unbidden her tears flowed freely whilst she sobbed Jace's name.


	2. Chapter 2

The Rising sun split the skyline into a cacophony of colours. The river sparkled under a blanket of still midnight blue as if the rising sun had not yet pierced its inky depths, the endless rows of glass and brushed metal skyscrapers blazed in a warm haze of ambers and reds, their sparkling spires piercing the almost white-blue cloudless dome above; in the sleepy liveliness of the city Jace Lightwood groaned as the quickly descending light speared into his closed and battered eyes turning the blissful darkness into a veined wash of red. Eyes still shut he rolled his head away from the intruding dawn, his breath coming out in a sharp his as he felt the skin stretching from his collar bone to his jaw rip with the movement. Cautiously he ran his fingers over the fleshy edge of the deep groove the pads of his fingers coming away sticky from the mix of drying and fresh blood that oozed onto his skin and the ends of his matted golden hair.

Finally opening his eyes, one swollen shut, he took in his surroundings; he was slumped in a doorway to an abandoned thrift shop just off the main street. Through the throng of passing legs, the steam that billowed up from the subway below through man-hole covers and the yellow blur of taxi cabs he could make out the hulking mass of the Institute; it's imposing gothic façade, masked to the Mundanes, shimmering like an oasis in the heat behind its Glamour. Rolling over onto his hands and knees Jace took in the smear of scarlet beneath him as a sharp searing pain racked his rib cage causing him to curl up in on himself, his back arched like an angered cat's, as he tried to escape the pain, _great_ he thought to himself as he cradled his left arm over his chest whilst he used his right to help himself climb to his feet.

Supporting himself for a moment, the cold rough brick scratching his already grazed palms, he deeply cringing as the pain hitched again before making his way out into the packed street. Occasionally he stumbled into a Mundane, glad of the Glamour all Shadowhunters wore, causing them to look around trying to locate what they had tripped on before absentmindedly putting it down to a loose paving stone.

Alec had watched Clary from the doorway to the Library before soundlessly making his way through the stacks to stand before her at the table in which she had taken over. An uneaten sandwich sat at her elbow the bread already discolouring and becoming stale, the lettuce limp and transparent, numerous books lay over before her whilst other dust covered tomes were stacked precariously beneath a cold cup of coffee. Her hair was swirled into a bun high on her head and secured with a biro, a layer of goose-bumps and mottled purple lines covering her bare arms making her parchment white skin look bruised in the harsh blue light of the stain glass window.

As if sensing his approach she looked up, the ever present question, encapsulated in a single word, _Jace?_ shimmering in her blood-stained eyes. She gratefully accepted the navy jumper Alec had brought for her the large cable knit jumper drowning her small from while the dark navy colouring deepened the bruises under her eyes and accentuated the permanent black runes that inked her skin. 'Thanks Alec' she murmured tucking a stray curl of her dulled red hair behind her ear; as the worn sleeve fell down her arm Alec took note of the Stamina rune wrapped around her small wrist, smaller than he's previously remember, on compulsion he blurted 'that won't help you know' his matter-of-fact tone made her look up and at her wrist to which he pointed. She blinked twice before returning her gaze back to him, scorn and fatigue mingled together in her emerald eyes. 'Well thanks again Alec,' she spat standing up from the table and coming around to stand before him 'I keep forgetting I know _nothing_ about runes!' she jabbed a small finger into his chest her words bitter and dripping sarcasm. 'I only meant-' Alec started shocked by Clary's outburst.

'I don't _care_ what you meant Alec! Jeez you think you know so much but you don't! Tell me Alec, seeing how Jace is your _Parabatai_ why he keeps going out to get himself knocked about! Tell me why, if you know so much, you couldn't keep Magnus happy for more than five minutes before you sabotaged it!' She threw her arms in the air, tears welled in her eyes by she was determined not to let them go 'you know what Alec just go away' she whispered her voice shaking from emotion. She crossed her arms and hid her face behind her palm.

Taking the hint Alec turned to leave. He reached the end of the stacks, furthest from the table Clary was leaning against, before he heard her. At first he heard nothing but the rain then a small hiccupping sound reached his ears, looking over his shoulder he could see Clary's shoulders shaking: she had broken down into a flood of tears. He turned back and began heading back towards her. She had balled her jumper covered hands into her eyes as if the soft material could stem the flow, he touched a hand lightly to her upper arm causing her to jerk her head up, embarrassed that someone had caught her crying. Her lip quivered as she looked into the ice blue of Alec's eyes expecting to see scorn and rejection, instead seeing warmth she couldn't help the tears flow harder. 'Clary' Alec hushed rubbing her arm awkwardly; he wasn't used to being the object of someone else's need for comfort, especially not a girl, Isabelle had always been self-sufficient and in her 17 year Alec couldn't remember an instant where Isabelle had sought him out for comfort, so he was surprised when Clary wrapped her arms around his waist and buried her face into the front of his button-down shirt. Frozen with his hands by his sides Alec stayed stock still until Clary's small voice broke his stance 'I'm so sorry Alec'. He hushed her once more before squeezing her in a quick embrace.

Jace straight armed the door to his room open, cringing as the shockwaves reverberated through his arm , shoulder and chest, making a beeline to the bathroom door through the once again pristine room he pressed down on the handle to find it was locked. Roaring in frustration he slammed his palm down on the wood rattling it in its frame before resting his forehead against the cool door. From within the small bathroom he heard the muffled sound of footsteps followed by the catch of the door being unlocked. Still looking down at the floor he felt the door fall away from his skin and the waft of warm air, a fruity scent filled his nose and into his line of sight came the small bare feet of Clary. Letting his gaze drift from her feet up he paused on the hemline of one of his t-shirts where it rested at her mid-thigh, lingering slightly too long he dragged his gaze up. The left shoulder was ripped to reveal the delicate ivory lace strap of her bra. Her hair was down and swept over her right shoulder the damp ends leaving crisscrosses of darker saturated cotton. She really was thinner, Jace thought to himself; he had always admired her slim frame which over the months had contoured into fluid graceful curves but now looking at her emaciated arms and shadowed eyes all Jace felt was gut wrenching guilt.

Behind the shadow of his girlfriend noticed a bath had been fixed along the back wall, its faucets streaming with steam wrapped columns of water. Holding out her hand, which Jace took gently scared to shatter the small bones beneath her thin skin, Clary lead him to the side of the tub where, without his permission, she began to slowly draw the hem of his t-shirt up 'if you wanted me naked Clarissa you only need ask' he joked as he shrugged the shirt off over his head. Clary gasped as she took in the dark purple seeping out from his ribcage and the river of blood that had snaked down onto his pec from the gash on his neck, his muscles tensed as she lightly ran her fingers over the edge of the bruise encasing his ribs until they rested over his heart which beat a steadily increasing rhythm. Cupping her face in his hands he watched a single tear catch on her lashes, bending to meet her he placed a tender kiss on her cheek capturing the tear as it slide from its nest 'take your jeans off and get in the bath Jace' she breathed turning out of his grasp and slipping out the ajar door. 'Keep your boxers on!' she called from inside his bedroom as he began to unclip his belt, laughing to himself he shucked off the heavy denim and slipped into the searing water that filled the bath.

She sat on the edge of the tub watching the black Iratze she had placed on Jace's temple face into a silvery shadow; the bruises had begun to fade after multiple Iratze and the swelling around Jace's eye was all but gone. The fragrant steam curled his blonde waves into loops of brilliant gold, the sodden ends bronze while his skin was dewed making it shimmer like sheet metal embossed with a lattice of silver and black marks. His breathing was deep and even but every so often Clary caught the scrunch of his eyes and the jerk of his shoulders as pain still coursed through his ribs as the broken bone knitted back together. Turning to stand she felt a wet hand encase her wrist, looking down into Jace's golden eyes her chest clenched. When he pulled her down she didn't complain even when he settled her into his lap, legs draped over the lip of the tub; the water soaked through the thin cotton of the t-shirt she had found in Jace's drawer, painting it to her legs, stomach and chest so that the pattern of her bra was visible. Jace rested his chin on the crown of her head, his rhythmic breathing a lullaby to her tired and aching body. Nestling into his body she laid her hand back over his heart her fingers absentmindedly racing a pattern onto the skin there.

She knew the pattern well from lengthy study of the Grey Book. The rune an inverted version of the talent rune its black edges glowing in a soft pink light in her mind's eye 'love' Jace's voice rumbled through her. She tilted her head back letting her lips melt against his. The kiss was tender and full of unspoken apologies and unshed tears; she could feel the cool trickle of tears as they flowed down her face contrast with the warmth of Jace's hand as it curled around her cheek, the small gesture igniting the spark within her chest that flared whenever Jace touched her. The hand resting over his heart pressed into the skin, she felt the familiar burn of a rune being placed on her skin. She couldn't work out whether the sensation was real or a memory when a brilliant white light flashed between her palm and Jace's chest.

Pulling her hand away slightly she could see the edge of the love rune printed over Jace's heart and knew that she had the twin mark permanently etched into her palm.


	3. Chapter 3

**For 'Jem Watson' – my best friend who just loves Magnus :). Sorry for the delay; dissertation and exams aren't fun lol. Enjoy.**

Draped over a champagne chaise lounge Magnus watched the duct motes dance in the slice of brilliant midday sun, an open book lay forgotten at the junction of his hip; one leg bent at the knee, the other hanging off the lip of the chaise bench. Idly one of his black nail polished fingers teased the corner of the book, its corner pricking into the pad of his forefinger whilst the page waved as if caught in an invisible breeze. Sighing he let his head fall back, his view of the room behind him suddenly inverted.

His apartment was a bipolar mess; like the collision of atom the Victorian paisley, similar to that of the house he had occupied in a bygone century, polarised the black glitter and crushed aluminium harshness that reflected his mood of late, separated by an uneven jagged line that widely resembled the translucent edge of torn paper. Paisley carpet melted into cold unpolished wood, black and glitter splashed walls were encroached by cherry wood panelling topped with cream coloured wallpaper embossed with lighter fleurs-de-lis. Even the fixtures were a mass of indecision; lava lamps glowed warmly on black wooden crates their neon coloured wax making miniscule _globbing _sounds as they slugged up and down the water filled vessel, while above his head a teardrop crystal chandelier sparkled in the sunlight, its small adornments casting rainbows across the ceiling and walls. Groaning Magnus rubbed his hands down his face roughly. The small cobalt blue string that was still tied around his wrist caught his eye unbidden a memory swarm before his eyes, almost tangible in the air that he did not push away.

_Alec sat crossed legged his waist wrapped in a sheet leaving his chest bare and Magnus free to stare greedily at his milky flesh. Stele in hand Alec completed the distorted Stamina rune that lie in the hollow of his arm socket ; the skin around the remaining rune was streaked with thick vivid blue glitter which also streaked his face and tipped the ends of his ink black hair. Reaching across Magnus' prone body Alec replaced the stele on the ornate mahogany bed stand 'you've got to lay off the glitter play, its messing with my runes' he said leaning back onto his hands. 'It's a fetish,' Magnus retorted holding his glitter drenched hand up, his fingers fanned to let his cobalt flames leap between them 'anyway it doesn't normally distort them' he sat up supporting himself on his elbows, the edges of his white shirt pooling onto the scarlet valence sheet. 'No but it does when you –'Alec wiggled his fingers at Magnus trying to convey his attempt at magic. Laughing hysterically Magnus flopped back onto the mattress his arm covering his eyes as a tear rolled down his face._

Still smiling as the edges of the memory faded into black like the credits of a film Magnus felt the cool slide of a tear as it tracked down his cheek, 'Oh Alec' he muttered covering his eyes with the crook of his elbow.

_Thwack. Thwack. Thwack. _Simon rolled the tennis ball in his hand before throwing it again, the fluffy projectile hit the centre of the _Enkeli_ rune that framed the middle I of the Institute name. The weathered iron rattled with a satisfying clang; smirking to himself Simon pulled his arm back ready to let the ball fly again when a lazy drawling voice stopped him. 'Technically that's criminal damage, Daylighter' Magnus Bane stood leaning against the high red stone wall casually checking his flawlessly painted nails. Scoffing Simon jerked his arm forward letting the ball fly towards the rune once more; half way to its target the ball combusted into flames, its smouldering remains floating down the street intermingling with the discarded food wrappers and fallen leaves. Raising an eyebrow Simon looked at Magnus. The warlock was dressed in all black; black skinny jeans tucked into leather buckled ankle boots, a black chain hanging from his belt hook, with a black button down shirt topped with an open black waistcoat. The shirt was open, in a conservative manner, showing a small V of caramel skin while the cuffs were unbuttoned and pushed up his forearms secured at his elbow. A flash of blue caught Simon's eye as Magnus ran his hand through his hair, _obviously not gotten over the ex,_ Simon thought to himself before retorting 'I like to think of it as a doorbell, people answer quicker and don't I recall you saying you didn't want to help us lot out anymore _yada yada_' Simon rolled his hand in a dismissive gesture as he rattled of the last words of his sentence.

'Not that it's any-' Magnus stressed the _any_ as he pushed roughly passed Simon 'of your business Daylighter but I'm not here to help you or your friends!' I've been summoned and one does not ignore a summoning lest they want their arse kicked by a creepy robed guy' Magnus drawled lazily throwing the heavy doors to the Grand Church open with the flicker of his wrist, catching the doors in both hands as he turned back towards Simon he continued 'and unlike you I won't sizzle into an unattractive crisp for trying to get in here, I am allowed here and still I don't want to be here. When are you going to stop being the fleck of dust on everyone's glasses? Embrace your nature Sheldon, learn your place and recognise it isn't under the Lightwood girl's or Clarissa Morgenstern's boot maybe then your immortality will not be a complete waste' with that Magnus brought the doors to a close his cat-like eyes gleaming, in the near dark of the Church, with an uncharacteristic maliciousness.

The Institute Library was one of the largest libraries outside of Idris; with the exception of the London Institute which boasted rare volumes as well as standard issue books found in all the World's Institutes. The traffic from the outside world was a distant roar swallowed by the consuming silence of the vast stone room. Hodge's desk, now occupied by Maryse Lightwood, was cluttered with maps, blank and half covered sheets of paper, pens and steles. Books were stacked precariously over the far corner of the large wooden slab, supported on the backs of two kneeling stone Angels their serene faces turned down to the tiled depiction of Raziel's Rising, atop which rested cut crystal tumblers and goblets at varying levels of fullness. Maryse sat amongst the mess with her head in her hands, fingers tangled in the now dishevelled strands pulled from the chignon at the back of her head. Her neck ached from a mixture of the cold air permeating the room regardless of the fire that roared in the grate behind her and being hunched over ancient books, her back was stiff as a result of the hours spent in a hard mahogany chair whose back was shaped into an _Enkeli_ rune framed in three strips of mahogany. Looking though her lashes at the debris before her, she zoned in on a gleaming object towards the back of the desk, half buried under discarded sheets of paper.

Reaching forward she dug out the object; a picture frame, its rune engraved edges held a rare photograph of her children. Stood in a line were Jace, Isabelle and Alec all of them beaming at the camera; Jace stood between his adopted siblings his golden colouring like a beacon on the night horizon that was Alec and Isabelle's harsh black and blues. The three of them stood with their arms outstretched before them while across their marked forearms lay Max, the youngest, whose face was scrunched up in laughter. Caressing the cool metal Maryse's heart clenched in grief at the sight of her youngest.

When a Shadowhunter died, even on unmarked like Max, they were mourned for the length of the funeral but after that it was advised, kindly but insistently, that the family carried on with their lives and duties taking comfort in the fact that their loved one had died in battle and were reunited with the Angel in Glory on high but Max had not died doing his 'duty' he had been murdered in cold blood and the culprit had gotten away free. Sebastian's, or Jonathan Christopher Morgenstern's, actions had destroyed the Lightwood family. Sent Robert fleeing to Idris leaving his family to try and pick up the pieces lost when Max's light was snuffed from the world, and adding insult to injury he had continued to pervert the dynamic of Maryse's family by corrupting one of her own which had led to the situation at hand.

Anger gripped Maryse; her fingers shook as they traced the frame one final time before the creaking of wood alerted her to the presence of others. She had not been surprised to find the two Silent Brothers stood hovering before her behind the desk, their hoods drawn deep over their face and arms folded, hands hidden beneath the opposing sleeve. As a child the Silent Brothers had scared Maryse, their unearthly silence and horrendously mutilated faces taking all that was human from them, and even as they stood they stood there before her she was still wary of them. She straightened her back, smoothing the loose tendrils of hair back across the crown of her head, waiting for one of the Brothers to say something. They, instead, stood impassive as two statues silent as the grave.

The weighted silence was broken by the banging of the library doors as they shot open with a force that left the wood quacking. Magnus Bane stood framed in the doorway his tall frame glowing in a cobalt aura; his intrusion sparking the Brothers into life, each pivoting seamlessly on the spot to face the advancing Warlock. 'Fashionably late as always' Magnus smiled, his cat green eyes taking on a flamboyant light as he sauntered to stand at the edge of the Angel's depiction. Waving his left had a windless tornado of bruise coloured smoke spiralled in the centre of the depiction and as it dissipated a chaise lounge of champagne and ivory fabric was revealed. With a dramatic sigh he threw himself down onto the plush bench, his arm draped over the back fingers stroking idly over the embossed upholstery. 'So,' Magnus trilled looking from Maryse to the two hooded brothers stationed still at the desk 'why doth thou,' he pointed to them before waving his hand in a flourish gesturing to himself 'require moi?' Maryse's fists clenched at his arrogant tone, her eyes narrowed as she regarded the prone Warlock, and smug smirk hitched into his lips, 'that, Magnus Bane, will be revealed when my children arrive.'


End file.
